Revolution
by thehush
Summary: After Demon Days, the Gorillaz begin to deal with the events that lead up to their hiatus. They turn their focus onto remodeling the Khong Mansion for Noodle's sake, but unknowingly begin to rebuild themselves as well.
1. Chapter 1

**Revolution**

by Jackie & Erin

_Gorillaz (c) Jamie Hewlett & Damon Albarn_

* * *

**Chapter 1: June 6th**

_10:03 p.m. - "Bandmates"_

Essex in June was already starting to get unnaturally warm. The smell from the landfill was too nauseating to keep the windows open and the AC could only keep the building so cool. Luckily, by the time 10pm rolled around, Noodle was comfortably in her cut off shorts and tank in the coolest part of the mansion. The studio kitchen was quiet for the first time in weeks. Since the CD release, no one even really wanted to be near the studio - but she still needed to get out a few ghost tunes that were haunting her.

The heat was funny, the way it carried things. Smells, tunes, moods, headaches. That was what it was carrying back to 2D. The thicker the heat, the worse his head throbbed. Maybe it wasn't even the heat alone, so much as being back in the studio. Last summer hadn't seemed so sickly. Last summer was good. He would have sat around thinking about it, were it not for the headache, which demanded action.

In socks, he padded into the kitchen, oblivious to Noodle for a moment, as he rooted through the cabinet that housed mostly medicine. He downed a handful of painkillers, dry, and leaned back against the counter, eyes shut. With the room shut out, it somehow became obvious that the music wasn't disembodied - it was coming from a person: Noodle.

"How can you play when it's so beastly hot?" he asked her, but quietly. The sound of the music even came close to hurting his head more.

The skinny girl didn't even look up from her guitar in surprise at his sudden entrance. "It is cooler in here, Stu-dono." She looked up at him, before catching his lack of clothes. Her quiet laughter was still as high-pitched as it had been when he met her.

2D smiled a little. He still didn't know what any of the girl's weird addendums to names meant, but it was nice to hear them again. Whatever they were, he didn't get the impression they were poking fun. The impression he did get, was that she was looking in his direction, so he opened his eyes and looked back. She was different, and not just older. Like she was standing out from the scene around her. It was a small wonder he hadn't noticed her right away. Now that he had, her presence produced a calming influence. "Mind me hanging about? It is cooler here."

Noodle shook her head, pulling a chair away from one of his pianos for him. "Did Murdoc hit you again?" She leaned on her guitar, her wet hair falling into her face - she had been in an out of the shower all day.

After slumping into the chair, he gave her a careful nod, cradling his forehead on the heel of his hand. Pushing right in the center made him feel more lucid in the middle of a migraine, like it pushed the pain backwards just far enough that he had a spot to focus thoughts. "Yeah. That's nothing new, right?" He knew most guys wouldn't admit to that, but it really was such old hat by now, he couldn't bother to be prideful.

Reaching out her hand, fingers calloused from guitar play; Noodle let it rest on his rumpled hair. The shocking blue that had once highlighted it had faded and was going back to black. It almost resembled hers. "Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent."

Ah, that was another thing he'd kind of missed. Not the hair-rumpling (although... no, that was a silly thing to think), but the little fortune cookie pieces of philosophy Noodle seemed to have a never ending supply of. "What's that make me, then?" Worse than incompetent.

Her hand slid away from his hair. "Brave." Propping her head up with her hand, she sighed like someone who had lived through more than they should have. "Do you want me to make you something?"

Somebody brave, 2D thought, would do something about Murdoc. He gave Noodle a nod, though. His stomach was starting to feel queasy from trying to digest nothing but the big handful of pills. "Thanks," he said, which was followed by a small groan as his head took up throbbing again.

Noodle stood, putting her guitar carefully in its spot amongst her others. If anyone had been there other than her band mates, the sudden kiss on 2D's head would have gotten a very scared look. Since the band's break though, it had become common for the youngest among them to not only spend as much time as she could with them, but comfort them as best as she could.

Her tiny frame sauntered into the kitchen like the eldest - not like most girls her age. She immediately started pulling things out of cabinets and a smaller refrigerator under the counter. Murdoc might have complained that there was never anything to eat, but that was only because the only person other than Russel who ever went out and bought food was Noodle. Food only she could cook. She didn't make him admit it, but she knew he was grateful that she knew as much as she did.

Watching Noodle in the kitchen, from the corner of his eye, 2D saw what it was that made her seem so different now. Authority. She had a command to her presence that she hadn't had a few years ago. That was what was making her stand out, seem more vivid. It was surprising to see her… taking care of him. That was what she was doing, wasn't it? Asking him questions, fixing food, that tiny kiss.

It made him want to be better, feel worthy of care taking. "I should stop him tossing me around like that, shouldn't I?" he asked, speaking of Murdoc. "I mean, if I was really brave."

"Bravery does not always mean action, it can sometimes mean enduring." She grew silent as she put a pot of water on to boil and started mixing something up in the new bowls she had brought over from Japan. "You are stronger for not succumbing to Murdoc's unresolved anger." She bit her lip, her English still strange to even herself. "The samurai does not sink to his enemies level. Nor does the Buddhist seek revenge. The greatest warriors fought not with their hands, but with their minds." Looking over at him through the open door, she smiled softly, hoping he understood her.

He thought he got it. It didn't present a solution to the fistfights, but he did get it. "Enduring. Ya mean he might get bored?" Whatever it was that'd take Murdoc's negative energy away from him, he thought he might devote a religious cult to it.

Noodle grew quiet, not answering his question. It was something she sometimes did instead of lying. Her sensei said never to give a man false hope, just the knowledge of experience. "A little Wasabi in his meal will teach him." She smirked.

"That shite hurts my sinuses." It did. Too spicy. Of course, that might have been because his only experience with Wasabi involved eating a giant spoonful of the stuff, not realizing how hot it was. In which case, he supposed a lot of Wasabi might teach Murdoc. But Noodle probably hadn't meant it literally.

As if reading his mind, Noodle showed off the bowl of Wasabi paste she had been working on. It was one of her favorite spices, so she had plenty of it around. "We are having Chicken-katsu, White Rice, Noodles, and Dango. Murdoc will have something extra with his noodles."

Oh good, she had meant part of it literally. 2D gave her as much of a grin as he could, worn out like he was. He stood up, stretching his arms out over his head, and went to join the girl in the kitchen, to find himself a drink. "If you piss him off, I wasn't in the kitchen when you made it." He paused, having found a beer hidden in the back of the refrigerator. "Remember that."

Another quiet smile as she cooked. "He will be too concerned with his Donan sake, to think about hurting you." She made a motion at the bottle hidden behind all her overseas food.

"Brilliant." The sake in question would soon have that religious cult in its honor, providing 2D remembered to put up a shrine to it. For now, he was occupied watching Noodle, who looked like she had been cooking meals every day of her life, like a pint-size adult.

She knew he was watching her. It made her feel like a normal girl when he did. The sort of girl who hadn't grown up with three problematic men and a dirty scene she was almost always teetering on the edge of. LA and Japan reminded her of that. Girls her age weren't concerned with sobering up band mates or making sure that they didn't kill each other just because the banter in their heads needed somewhere else to go. Girls her age had friends and normal problems. They weren't the sort of prodigies that could kill people or play any instrument they got their hands on. Had her father been proud? Did she look like her mother? What would have happened if she had gone back to school after her training? Noodle blinked, realizing she had been staring at the chicken and forgotten to put the rice in the now bubbling saucepan. "_Aho_."

For the minute or two that passed, the man watching the girl watching herself, the quiet of the rest of the house settled into the kitchen. Even the sputtering of the cooking didn't break through it, until Noodle spoke. 2D twitched slightly, startled (all those pills must be catching up), and looked over at the stove. "D'you want some help?"

"Start the noodles." She shook her head, taking the chicken off the burner and getting out the fryer she had stashed with the mixer and crock-pot. Russel's mom had sent them half the things the two used to cook actual meals with, but much of the kitchen had become Noodle's. None of them were quite sure what a lot of it was, but she could use them and that's what mattered. "I am glad I did not stay in Osaka..." came her soft comment as she searched for Russel's grease can.

When it came to cooking, 2D wasn't the most adept person in the universe, but he could cook noodles without burning anything down. (At least, with someone to monitor him. Even if the "someone" was just a little girl.) Catching her comment, he said, "Didn't you like it? I liked seeing my dad again for a bit."

Noodle frowned at the thought of not getting to see her family. Had she ever really known them? The only family she had ever had was her sensei and it had been good to see him again. But being back in Japan, alone, was hard. Having to face the truth was hard. Facing the fact that she wasn't normal and never would be had been trying to settle in her mind for months now. Even if she was proud of who she was, the growing girl in her knew that she would always be Noodle. "I stuck out... at the school my sensei had me visit."

"Hey, you are supposed to be in school, huh?" That had slipped his mind until now. Noodle really wasn't like other girls her age. The things 2D expected from her were totally different; he expected her to just be around and… be Noodle. Not go to school and have friends and chat about boys. It occurred to him now that that might be strange for her. "If it's ok with the other guys, I could take you to see my dad's carnival. If you want, I mean."

She blushed a little, no one ever asked to take her places - it just sort of happened. The band would brave the lane off the grounds and head somewhere. "Wouldn't you be embarrassed to be hanging out with just a fifteen year old?" Noodle pushed her hair back with the clean part of her arm, as if trying to emphasis her young face.

He shrugged, a casual front. Why'd he even ask her that? It's not like it was a date kind of thing to ask, nor was she someone to make date kind of invitations to. But now he couldn't very well take it back for fear of how it actually sounded, or she'd think he was embarrassed to be seen with her. Damn. "Nah. There's scads of people there. You know, hanging out."

Noodle carefully put the chicken in the frying pot and hopped up on one of the counters farthest from it. She nodded in response, not really know how to take the invitation still. "You think we should wait till after the tour?"

"Maybe should. No one'll care what we get up to, then." The 'no one' in question was really only Murdoc. Russ would assume they'd come back, if they disappeared for a day in the middle of touring. Murdoc, on the other hand, would have a ballistic fit the next time he laid eyes on them.

Nodding again, she tucked her knees under her chin and looked at him. "It will be good to play live again. Make us appreciate home even more."

- end -


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: June 7th, 2005**

_Noon - "A Decent Proposal"_

Venturing out into the thick, reeking heat of the landfill at midday was something typically avoided at all cost. The air hung like a shroud around bodies, trapping in the stench and making it an almost tactile thing, especially on a humid afternoon like this one. There was a thunderstorm looming in the next few hours. It had been cloudy for days, but today the sunlight had taken on that gray, filtered quality that comes from a brewing storm.

It made Russ feel antsy. That peculiar, unearthly tone to the light was what had brought him outside, into this stinking, wriggling cesspool. He had more the stomach for it than the others (well, Murdoc probably did, but he wasn't a fan of aimless midday wanderings), or at least a bizarre ability to trick himself into having the stomach for it. There were plenty of states he could trick himself into. Trances, he had started to call them. There were trances to ward off sleeplessness, trances to ward off loneliness, and trances to ward off nausea, to make him forget there was anything odd about stepping around the carcasses of animals so rotten he couldn't tell what they were anymore.

The first ominous rumble of thunder poured in from the distance. Soon, the wind would pick up.

Russell kicked at an upturned bicycle tire, and watched its lazy, wobbling spin. A very affronted, and very large spider scurried away from the moving wheel, over top of an industrial-thickness plastic garbage bag, printed with a "Hazard" symbol. Rank. This place was positively fucking rank.

Lightning quivered in the folds of clouds above him, and Russel turned to regard the mansion on the hilltop behind him. He hoped Noodle had taken down her clothesline on the balcony. Had he reminded her to do that? It wasn't good to leave those things out during a storm. He dragged a hand across his brow, wiping the sweat out of his eyes. Of course he'd told her. He wasn't that absent-minded, even these days.

Noodle was a priority, really. In a chaotic world, the one obvious good deed he could do was make sure the kid had as easy a time of it as possible. Being perfectly honest (little as he liked to think on it), he felt a little guilty for his freak out in L.A., for letting the girl wander off to Japan utterly alone and without contact, while he made precious little use of himself in California for a year. And then to meet her back here, in this hellhole, to find she'd been staying here alone for six months? The thought disgusted and terrified him. That girl needed to get out of here. The Kong mansion wasn't any place for a sweet kid like that. Ghosts, health hazards, bad air-conditioning... No place for a little girl.

Russel sat down on a discarded, rusting dishwasher. It creaked a little under his weight. Should lose some of that weight, he thought. His mind drifted over thoughts of Noodle, while his eyes drifted over the far reaches of the rubbish piles. Clusters of flies huddled over rotten food and rotten...other things. A knife with a bizarre, curved blade that Russ could swear was smeared in blood below all the grime; a baby doll with smashed-out eyes; a strangely un-rusted carburetor... Carburetor? With another creak of the metal below him, Russ stood up and tramped over to the thing. Yes. A carburetor in a condition that was surprisingly good. It was like a jewel, compared to everything else out here.

He picked it up, and cast a look around for anything in a similar, automotive vein. His interest was piqued. This was the second salvageable he'd found in as many weeks. Last week, three pretty high-end tires. Where was this stuff coming from?

And lo and behold, there on the horizon, he saw a smooth metal playground slide, and an idea was born in his head.

There was probably a goldmine hidden under this mess. Playground equipment he could clean up for Noodle; spare parts in enough quantity to renovate as many scrapped cars as he pleased - his own private parts shop; a place for Noodle to finally be able to do kid things. It wasn't too late for her, was it? Another growl of thunder suggested that it wouldn't be, if he made good on this inspiration.

As the wind picked up, Russel headed back towards the mansion, visions of a clean, grassy haven in place of the crap fest that surrounded them now. Clean air, space to breathe...

That evening, there was a message posted on the refrigerator door in the studio kitchen:

_Guys - _

Time to get rid of that fucker of a landfill. We're on a mission from God, here. (Live with it, Muds) It's an eyesore, an environmental hazard, and a breeding ground for those zombies. In the states, the government'll give you federal grants for moving this stuff. I'm doing the research now to see what the deal is here. I'll keep ya'll posted.

_- Russ_

_

* * *

_

_9:27 p.m. - "Advice"_

Darkness was never as final, and evening was never as resolute, as people seemed to suppose it was. Nothing in 2D's experience had ever seem wrapped up by nightfall, in fact, nightfall often made situations seem more desperate, since it meant it would soon be morning, and another day had gone by without fixing anything. He had a situation on his hands at the moment; one he wasn't entirely sure how to tackle.

At the end of an hour of aimless wandering about the mansion (armed with a lighter and a can of hairspray, in the event of zombies), he stumbled out onto one of the large balconies. As chance would have it, for the second night in a row, he found Noodle right in the middle of his stumblings, perched on the balcony rail. She looked so serious...like she always did. "Sorry," he said before planning to open his mouth. "You're meditating or somethin', yeah? I'll leave you to it."

"You know, if Russel succeeds in removing the landfill-" Noodle's voice was echo-y from lifting and falling in the breeze that had picked up over night. "I think we could make something out of the soil underneath." She looked back at him, her head haloed in moonlight.

2D had been in the process of turning to go, when the girl responded to him. He stepped out of the shadow of the room behind them, up to the railing where she sat. The smell out here was rank, but the night was cooler than the one before. "If he gets that money he was goin' on about. I'm not sure they'd give funds to a bunch of...to us."

"No, I wasn't meaning them." She tapped her chest; "My sensei has been sending me money for a long time. I have been saving it for almost seven years now." She looked down at her feet that dangled lazily over a clear drop. "I was hoping by now I would have found my family. I was going to give it to them... but it doesn't look good."

Families. Families and money, argh. That was what had brought him around this bend in the first place. He didn't say anything at first, flicked to life the flame in his lighter, shut it out, flicked it back on. "Say, if I was in a jam, think you could dish out some of that really Zen advice of yours?" A flame just barely quivered in his lighter, before he stuffed the thing in the back pocket of his trousers, to stop his fidgeting.

Noodle eyed him before she slipped back and climbed down off the rail so she could sit in Russel's armchair. "Prayers for wisdom from Buddha may give you greater peace - but I will do what I can."

"Eh, unless he wants to come down and have a chat right now, not much he can do for me." As the girl moved, he turned around to face her, ultimately taking a seat on the balcony's surface, rather than lean against the rail. With Noodle in the chair, they looked an odd reversal of child and adult.

2D pushed a hand back through his hair, a huff of a sigh puffing over his lip, which was almost pouting as he thought. How to present this? Erm… "I'm into a spot with an agency. See...I got myself a couple o' kids while I was away." He peeked up and gave her a quick, sheepish sort of smile. That was somehow an awkward thing to tell a young teenage girl, and he'd let her absorb that first.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "I... um. I don't think I'm the one you should be getting parenting advice from, D."

He shook his head quickly (although, really, parenting advice was something he could probably use a handful of). "I just need'ta know, what kinds of things d'you send in care packages for babies? The blokes from child support are breathing down my neck right hard, but the checks in my account won't clear, so there's no money to send 'em yet." It was unnecessary to mention that he only knew his checks were bouncing after he'd been unable to pay for an overly extravagant home entertainment system.

She thought it out for moment, seeming to study her hands as she did. "My-, Kyuzo-sensei, he pays friends in New York to send me food you would find in Japan - it is... sort of a reminder of his restaurant in Hong Kong, where I met him. He also sends money and little gifts... like books, toys, little things he can afford." She shrugged. "Maybe you can send them little things now until your checks clear... Though, a noble man would sell his possessions to care for his children. Sacrificing for your young is a sign of honor."

Ah, crud. Way to make him feel obligated, after all last night's talk about bravery and honor and whatnot. Maybe he could make do without that giant TV set. "Could you give me a hand? There's some cool old blankets in one of them closets down the hall." Oddly well preserved, if they were anything like the first time he'd seen them. Embroidered with horses and things.

Nodding, she stood up and pulled out her switchblade from her pocket and on the mini lantern she kept in her room for those occasions when the power would cut out. She would have to complain about that to the men visiting. "Blankets are good. Though, I would wash them before you send them. I wouldn't trust anything that stayed here while we were gone." Switching on her faux paper lantern, the yellow glow illuminated the dark deck to reveal the kitchen behind them.

He laughed. "Yeah, gotta make sure it's not full of zombie slime." Not that he would send anything that had ever been full of zombie slime to small children. With the little lamp illuminating the path in front of them, he fetched his lighter back out of his pocket, and got up to lead the way out to the hall. "I was thinking to maybe make some food for their mums. They're prob'ly knackered." Really, he did wish there was something else he could do about these kids. But unless he stayed here at the mansion, where was enough money to send out going to come from?

"Well, we could ask Russell to make them cookies - I'm still not too good at overseas food." She looked embarrassed. "Maybe you could ask him to take you to the local grocery store. He knows how to get... uh. Cheap food?"

"When he's not too busy with the rubbish thing..." As the pair got further down the hallway, 2D trailed off, absorbed in glancing about for anything creepy. He'd seen a couple something's on the walk out to the balcony, so he was skittish tonight. Even armed with flammable substances, coming across haunts alone wasn't very awesome.

Towards the end of the hall was a narrow closet, filled mostly with mothball-smelling tablecloths and big cloth napkins. It was this that he pulled open, after handing off his can of hairspray to Noodle's free hand. Reaching up to one of the higher shelves, he pulled down a small cascade of thicker fabric, and showed it off for Noodle's approval. It was a tapestry-like blanket, embroidered with an image of what seemed to be the very hill the mansion was built on, but grassy and light. "That's what you and Russ are thinkin' of, yeah?"

Putting the lantern on the ground and the can between her legs, Noodle took the tapestry with a smile. "I saw an old painting like this, put away in the back of the library." She traced the hill with her bony fingers. "This should go back in the library." Rolling it up carefully, she tucked it under one arm as well as she could so she could hold the hairspray again. "You know, we don't need all of that." She motioned at all the tablecloths and napkins. She looked towards the kitchen, her eyes seeming to map out the place. "I bet you could send them the refrigerator."

"For real? It's a bit...big." The closet continued far enough up the wall of the hallway, that he had to stand up on his toes to reach the back of the shelf full of blankets. Ah, there was the one with the horses. Somebody spent a lot of time making these things, once. They'd be nice presents. He wondered if any kids had ever lived here in the house. Surely one, at some point. Maybe there was an old fashioned bassinet or something lying around. Girls went crazy for that sort of thing.

She shrugged, adjusting her things right as the lights flickered again - this time staying on. "Ah, finally!" Shutting off her lantern, Noodle stuffed the can of hairspray in the tapestry roll and tucked her knife back in her pocket. "If your getting the blankets, get the box of useless table clothes - I have an idea."

The proper lights made him squint at first. He'd spent an awfully long time muddling around by the tiny flame on his lighter. "Can do," he answered Noodle, and dumped his handful of blankets into the large cardboard box on one of the lower shelves. He hoisted the whole thing out of its place, and looked over at the girl, for directions. "Lead the way, lil' samurai."

Noodle blushed but hide it well with a grin - 'lil samurai had been the name he had given her when they first realized her gift for stealth. Irony worked in funny ways. "_Oyasumi nasai minasan...Oyasumi nasai minasan..._" Her singing voice was more interesting when she spoke in her native language, even more so as she sung her little song skipping a little towards the kitchen.

Sweet girl, really. Listening to her sing gave him a thought. He'd picked up a couple of Japanese phrases from the period of time Noodle spent without speaking any English, so he knew "goodnight" when he heard it. Once they got to the kitchen, he said, "What do you think of making those kids some tapes of lullabies and stuff?"

Setting down her things, Noodle hurried over to the cabinets and started pulling out things they hadn't seen in ages. "I know lots of lullabies - but only in Japanese. Do you know any?"

2D set his armful of stuff down as well, and bit the inside of his lip in thought. "A couple, maybe. Bet I could dig up a few more...They can't be too hard to find." Now that he gave it some thought, it seemed like a half decent idea. That was personal, right? Girls liked that sort of stuff, too.

Suddenly a loud metallic clatter filled the room as a stash of pots and pans fell out of the cabinet Noodle had just opened. For a second she was still before she peered around warily hoping no one was going to yell at her. "Oops."

Quite the contrary. Almost as soon as the clash happened, 2D was around the counter beside her, picking up some of the bigger things and pushing them back into the cabinet. "They didn't fall on you or nothin', did they?" She looked more startled than like she'd had a pot dropped on her, but it was good to ask.

Relieved that she hadn't hurt his head with the sudden noise, she laughed it off. "No, no, I'm fine. I just wanted to get all of this out of here. I have plans."

"Oh." He stopped in the middle of putting a saucepan back in its place. "What plans?" There weren't very many things he could think of, that involved tablecloths and pots... No, wait; there weren't any things he could think of.

She laughed, reaching up to ruffle his hair playfully before giving him one of her 'you make me feel older than 15' sighs. "You are looking for things to give them, why not things you don't need." She motioned at all the pots and pans around her. "We don't need these and we don't need those." Her hand waved towards the box of fabrics. "Mothers cook for their families... and what they don't need, we can sell. Money for your children."

"Oh hey, you're right." Like always. He gave her an affectionate little tap on the nose, and went back into the cabinet for the rest of the stuff, which he stacked on the floor in piles he was fairly sure weren't going to topple over onto Noodle's feet. "Must be tons of shite in this pit we don't use."

"I wonder how Murdoc would take it if I made this kitchen into a dojo... and moved everything into the studio kitchen." She bit her lip in thought, looking around with those curious eyes. "I like cooking down there..."

He lifted a stack of cookware up onto the counter, and gave the girl a shrug. "Fuck him, you ought'a have a place to do your thing." Managing to avoid Murdoc for most the day left him feeling more...outspoken than actual dealings with Murdoc did. And Noodle wouldn't tell on him. He could say whatever he wanted.

She laughed at his bravery. "He doesn't like it up here anyway - too bright." Grabbing what she could off the floor, she sorted through a few of the pots and pans but only set a few aside. "The servants who worked for Mr. Khong must have stolen all the good ones after he died. We already have two of all of these."

"Put in a skylight. He'd never come up to see what you're doin'." With most of the pots in rows on the counter, 2D gave the rest of the kitchen a cursory glance, looking for anything that might be able to hold some of this stuff. "Are there more boxes around?"

She rubbed her chin, "We still have moving boxes... unless Russel threw them away." There was a tiny snort. "No, we still have them. But we will have to clean out more closets to get to them. I am not too sure where we put them. It HAS been seven years since we moved in."

"Don't have a clue." Remember something that trivial, from that long ago? Not very likely. Most of what he remembered from seven years ago were incidents that coincided with skull-splitting migraines. Unless the boxes in question had ever done anything particularly brutal to his head, he'd be at a loss to find them. "Once I get some tunes lined up for those kids, you wanna do the recording for me?" The unspoken half of the question was, 'so Murdoc doesn't know what sappy stuff I'm up to.'

"Hai. As long as you help me find things." Noodle gave him a pointed look. She would never hurt him (too badly) for forgetting to do something, but she would certainly wake him up at a horrible hour by jumping on his bed. "We can find the boxes in the morning, though."

He gave her a very affirmative nod in response. In this situation (ok, actually in most situations) he'd do whatever she wanted him to do, to keep her on his side. Not that he thought she'd go turncoat on him. "You tell me where to go and what to do, I'll get it done." He flashed her a smile. "Thanks for helpin' out."

She gave him a toothy smile, before giving him a hug around the waist. "You are welcome, Stu-dono."

* * *

_11:46 p.m. - "Kids"_

It was late, and Noodle was sleeping. 2D had walked her back to her room, still armed with his makeshift flamethrower, once she started showing signs of sleepiness - blinking a little too hard at the kitchen equipment they were sorting, turning her face away in an effort to conceal her yawns. After awhile, he'd gone ahead and suggested she turn in. He wished he could go ahead and sleep too, but he had something else to get done tonight. He had to find Murdoc and ask about those checks. Now that the ball had been set in motion, by his time with Noodle, he didn't want to have to get it going again another day.

Looking for Murdoc was a little task in and of itself, but 2D eventually found him, holed up alone in the cafe. Stuffing his lighter back in his pocket, 2D steeled himself for whatever reckoning was about to come, and approached the other man. "You got a minute, mate?" Fly casual, yeah.

Murdoc lay sprawled out over a table, his boots kicked up on the wall just enough that he was leaving scuffs on 2D's poster. He was a bit knackered, but that didn't stop him from giving the lead singer a yawn and a wave of his hand. "All the minutes in the world, Dent-boy. Wot do you want?"

2D tapped the can of hairspray lazily against his thigh, absent of anything else to do with it. He should have set it down when he came in, he thought. "Erm. When's my royalty check supposed'ta clear? Should've been this last fortnight, yeah?"

A familiar sigh escaped from Murdoc as he took a drag off his cigarette. "Hell if I know, I'm not the one buying three tellys to play ponnng."

Though it was somewhat awkward with the can, he crossed his arms over his chest. "Tried. Didn't quite work, as nothin' in my bloody account's clearin'." He lifted his hand up to his mouth and bit his knuckle, trying to work out a thought. "Can I get an advance? I mean, the work's done already."

An uninterested shrug.

Try as he might have (although he didn't try very hard), 2D lost a little bit of his cool. "C'mon! You know more about this shite than I do. Can we do somethin'?" He paused. "I'm kinda in a spot here."

Sitting up, Murdoc let his feet rest on a seat where he eyed the young man - suddenly interested. Standing on the chair he stepped back on to the table and looked down at 2D. "Why's it so important to you, Stuart?" He looked around as if they were really in a cafe and there needed to be concern. "In trouble with the law? Gettin' off the pills? Broke your favorite piano?" Those eyebrows wiggled a little, as if to mock him. "Doin' a lil' something for Noodle, are you? You've been around her a lot lately - overheard somethin' 'bout a faire. She's a little young for you, don't'cha think." A cheeky grin spread over his face as he simply stepped back and hopped casually over to another table. "Or is it something else? Somethin' I can't even poke at you about."

"No, it's not her!" Dammit, he had blushed a little. Why? There wasn't really anything wrong with asking Noodle to go visit his Da with him. And now he'd come on defensive about it. Now it would look worse. The thought made him hesitate before he said anything else. "It's kinda... not really the law." Goddamn Murdoc. How was it he could always throw such a wrench in 2D's gears?

Teeth practically green from nicotine and booze stains flashed wickedly from the very edge of the room as Murdoc hopped off the table and started to slowly saunter towards 2D. "Noodle's very special to all of us - and every girl wants to know she's special. Only right we make the world jealous." The grin faded as his face grew deathly serious and he got up in 2D's space just enough to slide past him. "Not exactly the law? You're all sorts of informative tonigh' aren't ya?"

It was habit, even now, for 2D to cringe back a little when Murdoc invaded his space too far. It was a flinch he was trying to stop - it made him look and feel weak, but he couldn't quite help it. "It's... I can't say what." He had the sneaking feeling that the other man was going to grill it out of him, that he'd end up cracking and begging for help, but not yet. "It's my money, yeah? Jus' help me get it."

The cafe door opened and Murdoc started to fade into the dark hallway before there was a loud crack against the wall and the lights flickered on. "Right right, I know that much - but these law-like people are a bit tricky 'bout all that. Somethin' might be makin' them not want to give you it. Thing is, what?" He came into the doorway long enough to eye the other man. "Come on."

With a healthy share of misgivings, 2D came out to the hallway. "Nah, they want that money outta me. I owe some fees, like." That was an easy enough way to explain it...

Another cigarette flared up, it was a chain-smoking sort of evening. "Fee's for things, or fee's for people? There's a difference."

Argh, smoke smell. 2D hadn't had a smoke in quite a few hours, himself. Now he felt a little twitchy. Unconsciously, he retrieved his lighter from his pocket and began flicking at the starter. "Well, I guess ya could say both." You could, too. Fees for the care of people, which involved the purchase of things.

"What?" Murdoc leaned back a little as he turned. "Both? That doesn't make sense, Stuart." He squinted at him. "What did you get up to at home, eh?"

Ah, crud. Here it was, the time where he had to admit any more hedging around the point would get him nowhere. His lighter shut off, and he rubbed at the side of his neck, obviously uncomfortable. "I had me a couple kids," he got out, with a bit of a sulking tone attached to it.

A ways down the hall, almost to the lobby door, Murdoc started choking on the smoke he had inhaled. "Fuckin'... what?" It wasn't the sort of face most people would have gotten from him. It was the face he only ever gave to their youngest. It was a haunted face, his age, physically and health wise clear across his features. "You're tellin' me, you got 'round and knocked up a few girls - and now those people in London who like... protect kids and all that, are breathin' down your neck? Botherin' you about money?" He looked sick, tossing the cigarette at the floor as if it were his last attempt at getting a hold of the situation. "Fuckin' hand basket." His hoarse voice whispered, eyes looking a little lost as they trailed along the floor and wall. "That's probably the most decent thing I've ever heard someone fret about." He laughed to himself, softly. "You're wantin' to set those kids up, right? Not like some of those dead beats that go off an' disappear - right? Right." He shook his head, a little lost in his thoughts.

At first, 2D only nodded, his hand still up on his neck. (Was the bruise gone? He'd started putting his hand there when he was nervous, so he didn't feel like anyone was looking at it.) That wasn't the reaction he'd been on the alert for. In fact, he didn't even understand it completely. He expected to hear what a dumbass he was. "I... yeah. Yeah, tha's right. I wanna make sure those kids are fixed up."

It looked as if Murdoc had lost his Winnebago again, except the anger wasn't suddenly thrown at his band mate, but at himself. Leaning against one of the hallway walls, he let his head droop, his eyes not meeting 2D's. "I want ya to go get some sleep, don't even worry about all that. You go take your pills, have a fuckin' cup of tea and when you wake up in the mornin'..." Murdoc finally looked up at him. "Everything will be right as rain."

"Why?" His dark, vacant eyes narrowed a little. This had to be leading up to some unpleasant punch line. It always was. His fingers slipped from his neck and coiled tighter around the lighter in his hand. "How's that all there is to it?"

Murdoc's hand clenched and unclenched, but he stayed where he was. "Because it is. If it were a bunch of lady friends you were paying off or you were getting a bounty off your head - then I wouldn't give a toss. Its kids though." He stood straight and started towards 2D, flustered. "And if you think I'm not the least bit angry about you goin' off and throwing your genetic code all about the place - you've got another thing comin'. But you're takin' responsibility for it and I can't find a fuckin' thing wrong with that." He stopped, a few steps away from him again, almost pressing against the younger man. "If it were Noodle out there, needin' a few pounds in Japan while she was lookin' for that daft family of hers, don't you think I'd give it to her. I'm not that heartless, you fuckin' wank."

"Um… Thanks." 2D let his hand drop, forced the lighter back into his pocket. Defeated again, but in an entirely different way than the usual. No matter what he thought, or what he assumed, Murdoc was always shooting it down. It was creepy, almost. This was creepy, this situation. It seemed surreal. "I'll owe ya one."

Slowly, Murdoc studied 2D. It could have been a size up, or just gauging the other man's reaction - but Murdoc didn't say anything. After a few seconds, the bassist turned and started for the lobby doors. "Get some sleep."

"Ok," he said, a little quietly. He stayed where he was, watching Murdoc leave. Somebody ought to write a manual on that guy. Just when you thought you had him figured, you didn't.

- end -


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: June 8th, 2005**

_9:15 a.m. - "Good Morning"_

Early morning in Kong Studios (or Khong Mansion, a name Noodle was taking a liking to) was quieter than most homes in the area. For one, unless there was something they absolutely had to get done at nine-ish, everyone was asleep or pretending to be asleep till twelve. It had become a regular occurrence nowadays for their youngest to be up and about by eight and starting her own morning rituals. Exercising, making sure there was a meal to eat, getting out whatever music she had dreamed up the night before, and then both her band mates if they were up by ten. It was a little after nine when she finished her aerobics and headed into the kitchen to start breakfast.

"Well, hey, that'd be just great." From down the hall, the girl could hear Russel's voice traveling, a one-sided conversation presumably with the telephone. She could hear him laugh, after a short pause. "Believe me, it was great to talk to you too, sir. Sometime tomorrow, then?" There was another pause, and the man appeared framed in the kitchen doorway. He waved to Noodle and retrieved a coffee mug from one of the cabinets. "Alright, sweet. I'll be on the lookout. You have a good day, now."

After another second, the phone line clicked off, and he turned to Noodle. "Hey there, girl. How's your morning?"

No one was as much a morning person as Noodle was; giving Russ a bright smile, she continued to crack and scramble eggs into one of his frying pans. "Good. I slept well. You?"

"Great," he replied. The coffee pot had been bubbling in the corner since Noodle arrived in the kitchen, previously the only sign that someone else had been up. He went and filled his mug now. "Those fed-types are up crazy early, I tell you what. I think we've got a construction crew lined up to come out here tomorrow, though." He looked and felt enthusiastic about this. Things were getting underway fast.

"I cannot wait for them to start working - I want to see what they unearth." She cocked her head to the side studying him. "Are you planning on going back out there to look for things?"

He nodded, and came to lean against the counter near where Noodle was working, but not close enough to be in her way. There was a carton of milk among Noodle's cooking ingredients, and he added some to his coffee to cool it to a consumable temperature. "Yeah, I'm gonna try and oversee the whole thing. When they find something good, I'll have it moved. Should be an adventure."

Noodle stretched a little, rising up on her tiptoes. She would have to take a run around outside so she wouldn't get to antsy. "I'd like to help."

For a moment, Russ looked kind of skeptical, but his brows straightened as quickly as they had furrowed. He didn't want her to think he thought she was too much of a child. If he were there too, it'd be ok. Couldn't count on anyone else to keep her from falling into medical waste. "Don't go out there by yourself. There's a lotta nasty shit in those piles." He paused. "Wear long pants."

She gave a soft laugh, turning back to the meal. "Do you have any plans for the land when it's done?"

"A lawn." He chuckled lightly as well. Amazing, how a situation like this made everything feel kind of average. Average was good. No, average was great. "Any lawn would be great, at this point. Maybe you could have a...garden or something." He hesitated to say 'playground,' again out of fear of seeming to be treating her as something other than a young lady.

At the mention of garden, Noodle's thin body slipped past him and she made her way into the studio before appearing in front of him again with a few Polaroid's. They were from her trip to Tokyo, after she had met back up with her sensei. He had taken her as far as he could to reintroduce her to her homeland - and the many temple gardens had been on the tour.

Russ looked down at the pictures over the rim of his coffee mug, then set it down and took one of the Polaroid's from Noodle's hand. He nodded. "That'd be hot. It won't be one of those knock-off gardens with the 'Asian flavor,' you've got the real thing here."

"It would be the perfect place for all of us. And..." She looked around. "Holy ground, no zombies." Pouring what sausage links they had left in the freezer, Noodle started back on breakfast. "What about the burial grounds?"

"Good point." The past forty-eight hours had been suspiciously zombie free. He had to wonder where they were clustering. "Well," he continued, "My guess is there's some historical society that'd get all up in arms if we tried to move it. Let's at least get a priest out here to sanctify it, though."

She bit her lip. "Would not work, they weren't buried right." Turning off the burner, she hopped up onto the counter and squinted in thought. "They would have to... rebury them... properly. I don't know... may need more than one priest. Unless they were all Catholic."

Russel frowned and took a slow, thoughtful drink from his mug. "Is that a case we can argue? We'll have to pull out those files from the paranormal investigation." He said 'investigation' with a hint of disdain. Those idiots had hardly investigated anything.

"Private property, we have say so. If we want the burial ground gone and they want the money they could make from tourism - something can be worked out." She grinned, pleased that all the reading she was doing in the mansion library was being put to good use - though she wouldn't let him know she had been researching the situation on her own.

That'd do for, now. He'd end up looking into it more himself. Between the two of them, they'd wind up expert. "That's a workable angle. No one likes to hear they're missing a tourism opportunity. We can make it sound like we're doing the historical society a favor." Although why anyone really wanted to visit the site of a bunch of plague deaths, he wasn't totally sure. History buffs would flock to see anything, though.

Noodle danced as best as she could while sitting on the counter. "More money for us!"

That earned her another laugh. "I'll bet so, but moving that stuff's gonna be a pain in the ass." They'd probably need to hire an archaeologist, to make sure they didn't destroy everything while they were moving it. Cleaning out the landfill could be accomplished with any dumbass local construction company, but the gravesite was a more delicate thing.

"It will be good. I don't want to fight zombies anymore. I want to go into town and..." She shrugged, "I don't know."

"And do normal stuff?" Poor kid. He knew he'd been right in making up his mind to get rid of the landfill. She needed a normal home. Not that it could ever be entirely normal; the way things had turned out for her. For all of them, really.

There was a soft smile, "Hai." Crossing her arms, Noodle looked down at her feet as if they were the most interesting things in the world. "There is no such thing as normal... only living."

"Ok, comparatively normal." Abandoning his half-empty mug again, he started putting away the food items Noodle was no longer using, the rest of a carton of eggs, the milk. He knew she liked to cook on her own, now that she was getting good at it, but it felt rude to just stand around and not do anything. "Do you ever think about going to school?"

She shook her head at first before slowly nodding. "My sensei had me dress up in the local school's uniform and spend the day there. He told them I was from overseas and needed the experience for a project. It was... like... nothing I've ever done before. I've only seen Japanese schools in manga and anime. American school only on TV." She looked off towards the studio. "It was scary."

There was a moment of silence after Russel shut the refrigerator door. "I know what you mean." All too well. He turned back around to regard the girl with a look of sudden melancholy. "When I went back to school, after I got outta that coma? Nightmare, at first. But it got better." Of course, it got worse again, too, but nothing like that would ever happen to Noodle.

"Well." Noodle gave him a worried glance, realizing how important the idea of her getting an education was. She had had an education before she was decommissioned, but she had been getting along fine without one. There would have to be lots of tutoring and inane student-teacher meetings about her progress, but if child services hadn't come to get her now, they were sure to get her when people around town got word she wasn't actually being home schooled. She couldn't fathom having her boys lose everything because they hadn't made her go to school. "You register me in 8th grade, I'll go to tutoring every day, and somebody has to pick me up in one of our cool cars. I'll even go to that private school close by." Noodle grinned. "Press will love the school girl uniform."

He brightened a little around the edges, and gave her a laugh. "Yeah, they eat that stuff up. We'll make sure you're always picked up in the most stylish-lookin' car we've got around this place." Which one-day, he hoped, would be one of the remodeling jobs he was working on. They were gonna turn out pretty pimp.

"_Suge_!" Noodle pointed at him and winked. "I'll be top of the class in no time."

* * *

_7:00 p.m. - "A Walk"_

Night fell again, finding 2D in a much better mood than the past two. Most of his day had been spent sleeping, and when he finally rose and logged onto his computer to check his e-mail, there was an electronic statement from the bank, inexplicably showing all his funds returned to their proper place. Huh. Whatever Murdoc had done, it had worked.

He'd have to figure out some way to thank him without being sappy, 2D thought as he rummaged in the studio kitchen refrigerator for a can of soda. He pulled out a Pepsi and held the cold metal against his forehead, wandering out of the room and to the balcony with it. The pop-hiss of the can opening sparked out into the quiet evening, and a flicker of movement on the lawn caught his eye. 2D leaned forward over the balcony's edge. It was Noodle. Unsurprising. "Oy! Wotcha doin' down there?" He called to her.

Two shiny eyes looked up at him from the ground. "Nothing! Just thinking! Did you sleep okay?"

He nodded, knocking back a large mouthful of soda. "Stay there a sec, I'm comin' down," he said, and disappeared from the balcony edge. A minute or two later, he reappeared in one of the back doorways to the mansion, and jogged up to Noodle. "I got some good news."

She was zipping up her backpack as he came up. "Did your checks clear?"

"Yeah, they did. Murdoc did sumfink for me. Amazing, huh?" It really was. He still hadn't the faintest clue why it had happened.

"Murdoc?!" Noodle laughed. "Maybe he is starting to feel guilty."

"I dunno, but it's good for me, right?" He smiled, playfully wiggled the tip of his tongue at her, through the gap in his teeth. Then, even though it was sweltering out, he started walking in the same direction Noodle had been when he'd first seen her. Interrupting her walk would be no good.

"Well I'm glad that is solved. I do not like seeing you worried." Throwing her pack back over her shoulder, she followed after him, keeping an eye out for anything unusual around them. "You will never guess what Russel and I talked about."

2D turned around to walk backwards and face the small girl. At first glance, that wouldn't seem the safest thing to do when there might be zombies afoot, but he could watch behind Noodle, this way. "How you're sick of the old food smell, but you don't wanna clean that shite out yourself?" Maybe that was just him. "...No, I don't know."

The thought of 2D armed with cleaning supplies to tackle the fridge made her snort. "No! We talked about me going to school in the fall."

Her snort was not surprising. He'd never try in a million years. He'd stop eating for fear of going near the smell before he'd try to clean the thing out. What was surprising was the thought of Noodle going to school. His eyebrows rose a little, as he looked at her over the top of his Pepsi can. "School? Really? What d'you want to go there for?"

A rare embarrassed laugh escaped her. "What's wrong with wanting to go?"

"Nothin' wrong. I wouldn't wanna go if I had a choice, is all." He supposed it was a law, though. A law they'd been overlooking since Noodle arrived. It'd be funny without her around the mansion all day.

"I want to go though... I need to." She shrugged, slowly walking towards the front of their home. "It would not be good if they took you to court because of me. I am sure they would find other things to pro... prosecute... yeah, prosecute you for."

2D cast a glance behind him, to adjust where the angle of his backwards walk. Wouldn't want to run into anything and make himself look like an enormous moron right now. "Yeah, prosecute." The mansion was assuredly home to a million and one healthy and safety violations. "If you're goin', I'll root for ya." He slowed his steps to reach out and ruffle her hair. There was a lot of that between the two of them.

Noodle gave him a small smile, slowly stopping as they reached the front semi-porch. It was more of a concrete slab with a barely recognizable archway leading onto the path through the front of the grounds, but if this was to be home - it was their porch. Sitting down, she took off her bag and started to rummage through it for something. "Do you want to see something?"

"Sure. What've you got?" He sat down next to her, and finished off his soda. When his arm was halfway raised to chuck the empty can out into the yard, he stopped and lowered it. Russ would be none too pleased to know the grounds were being further cluttered right under his nose.

Pulling out a photo envelope that had been carefully tucked into her bag, Noodle handed them over to 2D. "I had my photos developed. Some are from my time Tokyo and others are from around here - before and after we left."

"Oh cool," he said, setting down his empty soda can and taking the envelope from Noodle. The first ones, from L.A., bothered him a little. It produced an almost disembodied feeling, seeing himself in pictures from that long ago. From a scenario that seemed so different, in a way. The ones from Noodle's trip to Japan were better. He came to one of an older man, frozen in the middle of a conversation. The man in the picture was gesturing with his hands, illustrating something in the air. "Is that your... sensei, right?"

"Mmhmm. That was after we visited several Shinto and Buddhist temples. I had already been staying with him for a few weeks." She laughed a little, "You would have liked him, he told wonderful stories."

Somehow, 2D didn't doubt that. The man just had the look of someone likeable. A little stern, but likeable. "You'd haveta translate it all for me, ya know." He should learn Japanese from her, he thought as he continued flipping through the pictures.

Noodle's finger stopped his flipping to catch one of her carefully walking a stone path across a large pond. "I hope we can have one of these when the landfill is cleared."

At first, for some reason he couldn't identify, he didn't think she meant a pond. He thought she meant a...moment like that. Or a kid. He shook his head, as if to tell himself that he was going insane. "A pond? That'd be cool, like...we could have those big fish in it. Koi fish." Good cover-up, there.

She smiled up at him, proud that he remembered what they were called. "I wonder how much trees are."

"Not too much. I bought a tree once. 'Course, I didn't know ya hadta plant it... I thought ya could just grow it in a pot like a flower." That had been a wretched adventure. Who knew you couldn't get every kind of plant in tiny bonsai size?

Biting her lip, Noodle couldn't hide the fact that she wanted to laugh. "No, I meant… I saw, one time… on this show-" she waved her hands around a little. "They got a big tree and planted it."

"It was already big when they planted it?" If that could be done, that was amazing.

Somewhere, off in the distance, thunder rumbled. Trees attract lightning. They might be safer without them. Being up on the hill like this, they had to already be just waiting for a strike. Sorting the photos back into order, 2D nudged Noodle with his elbow. "How 'bout takin' this inside?"

Looking off she watched as spots of clouds lit up in the distance. Secretly, she wished they could sit and watch the storm roll in, but no one ever let her - all the metal laying about was just asking for her to get electrocuted. Stuffing the pictures back in her backpack, amongst a few things she had salvaged before 2D had seen her, Noodle stood and brushed her self off.

2D got up and tried the front door. Locked, as it would figure. Nudging the girl again, so she wouldn't be behind him, he started back in the direction they'd come.

While they walked, the evening landscape got darker, overcast skies crowding in over them. It was going to be a noisy night, from the looks of it. The wind was already starting to whip around the grounds, rustling what little grass there was, and tugging at their hair, when 2D yanked the side door open and ushered Noodle inside. "Bet Murdoc's lovin' all that," he said, peeking back at the outside, before shutting the door. Over the growing sound of the wind, the pair couldn't hear the latch missing its catch.

* * *

_Midnight - "Return of the Stench"_

Footsteps were the only sound in the dark hallway - Stuart's and those of the thing behind him. Both were stumbling - Stuart from the fear and the pounding in his head, the thing from decomposition. It figured that the first night he dared leave his room without some makeshift weapon, something had spotted him. The ache in his head rumbled like the underbelly of an American overpass. He was too tired for this, too dizzy to be chased, but if he could only make it to the car park, everything would be fine. There were jugs of petrol there, and possibly Murdoc, and at any rate, it was far away from Noodle.

The thing behind him was gaining. Stuart could hear it turning hopeful, its steps more sure of themselves; the closer it got to its intended victim. Almost there. Both of them, almost there. Pressing himself against the wall, Stuart groped for the car park doorknob. His vision popped and blurred. In the dark, the way his head thundered, he was almost blind. His fingers slipped on the doorknob, and the thing's fingers slipped on his arm. He squealed and grasped at the knob again, forcing it to turn and let him fall into the space.

Something just beyond the door caught his foot and sent him tumbling at an odd, sideways angle into a loaded workbench of Russel's. A box of tools collided with the concrete floor, hammers and nails and screws spraying across its surface. The zombie also fell, with a great, creaking groan. Stuart righted himself and brandished the nearest available weapon - a large hammer. His vision focused again, slowly, as the dead thing on the floor rose. Couldn't let it get back up, no, can't! Stuart swung the hammer, catching its claw in the zombie's side. The thing screamed and Stuart was flecked with a spray of wet gore as he tore the hammer free.

The thing was angry now. It spun on Stuart with a roar, its flailing hand coming so dangerously close to Stuart's face that he could see the screws that had become imbedded in its rotten flesh when it fell. He stumbled back with a cry. The thing began to pitch forward again, screaming wordlessly as it swung another furious hit toward him. This one impacted. Through Stuart's haze, one thing came into blinding clarity - a fresh pain where the zombie's new metal claws tore open the seam on his jeans and into the flesh below. Goddamn, that thing could really hit. Swinging blind, Stuart lodged the hammer claw in the creature's chest cavity, and was showered with another spurt of festering fluid. This was no good. Not good at all. He was on the floor and knew the creature could smell blood.

Where was everyone? Murdoc had to be around...Stuart made another desperate swing at the zombie, as close to its head as he could aim with his impaired vision. He swallowed his migraine's fear of noise and yelled, "Murdoc! Fuckin'... help me!" Great...Now watch him not be down here.

The echo of Murdoc's name was loud enough to bounce off the concrete stonewalls and filter into his Winnebago. It got him to drag himself off the couch to glance outside, pausing the moans coming from his TV so he could strain to hear for anything else that might let him know if he was really hearing something or if it was just the weed kicking in.

The second scream of his name had him out the door with his shotgun so fast he didn't even care to close it. If he was scared of the dark of the car park, his calm face made no mention of it. From his pocket, he grabbed his lighter and lit another cigarette, which cast a haunting glow as he walked through the pitch black.

The sounds of struggle grew closer, and he answered back with the sound of a shotgun loading. "You're fuckin' around the wrong house, you fucks! I hope you aren't too attached to your knees!"

Stuart's concentration broke for an instant as the light flared from the Winnebago, his eyes drawn to his savior's flickering, golden profile. In that instant, it seemed right to compare Murdoc to a god.

The instant was broken quicker than it began. Stu's zombie friend summoned enough presence of what was left of its mind to pull the hammer from his grasp and bring its nailed fist down on his leg again. Goddamn. Another sound barely short of a shriek flew out of Stu, and he put his foot up into the thing's chest. "Shoot it's goddamn head!"

Even before the word 'head' was fully out of 2D's mouth, the force of a shotgun blast ripped through the air and struck the zombie right in the head. If it was a clear shot between the eyes, it didn't matter - all that was left was a gapping hole and a quickly decomposing body sprawled out a few steps away from 2D's feet.

If it were a lifetime or a minute, time wasn't very solid, but Murdoc wasn't much for solidity anyways. He grabbed 2D around the middle and started to drag him towards the Winnebago. "You mind telling me, monkey boy, how a zombie got in here? And why the fuck you didn't kill it the instant you saw it?"

Oh God, the blast. As he was hauled up off the floor, the sound of the shotgun resonated in 2D's skull (And that was all he felt like now...just 2D. Just the migraines.). He felt like the inside of the bone was bleeding into a puddle around his brain. "Urrgh.." he groaned, unable to make words out at first. "I was...goin' for my meds, yeah? An' I saw it an' I thought, gotta make sure it doesn't get near Noodle, so I started comin' down here."

He had to stop and bite his lip, try to focus on the pain in the gashes on his legs, instead of his head. "Dunno how it got in, honest," he ground out.

Dragging him into the light pouring out of the Winnebago, Murdoc saw 2D's cut up legs and drew in a hissed breath in a rare note of sympathy. "Yer lucky it didn't just gnaw on yer head for a bit." He sighed. "This fucking place… fallin' apart."

Carefully, Murdoc got into the house on wheels first, and then pulled 2D up the stairs, closing the door as soon as he was in and locking it. Like some war doctor, the bassist moved like liquid around the Winnebago, grabbing peroxide, paper towels, bandaging goodies no one would have ever thought could have been found in England's most unclean motor home.

Once inside the Winnebago, 2D slumped straight onto the floor and put his head in his hands. With his chin tucked close to his chest, he could smell the liquid gore on the front of his shirt. He made a retching sound like he might hurl right then and there. The feeling was so strong that he stopped knotting his hair around his fingers long enough to pull his shirt off and fling it as far away from himself as he had the energy to. (Which, by most standards, wasn't too far.) After that little burst of movement, the most response he could make out was an unintelligible mumble.

"Oh thanks, zombie innards all over my floor… guess that's an improvement." The click of a knife sliding open was the only warning as 2D's jeans were suddenly cut up the seam and then made into poorly done shorts. Murdoc's callused hand grabbed a hold of 2D's ankle quickly, as the contents of the peroxide bottle pored out over the bloody gashes and almost steamed with dying parasites.

2D yelped in surprise, the liquid stinging at first, then dulling to a faint tingle. He gritted his teeth in an attempt not to keep on moaning and whimpering, dug his fingers back into fistfuls of his hair to try and not rock back and forth too much. What he wouldn't give for half a bottle of Tylenol...

The other man was silent as he wiped off the bubbled sludge that was left over. Then he repeated the process over again, pour, wipe, pour. When the peroxide barely bubbled anymore, he started on the other leg, holding 2D by the ankle so his squirming wouldn't throw off the medicine. "Do you need a bullet to bite, or something? You look ready to go comatose." Murdoc shook his head and continued to wipe and pour. "You want me to give Russ a ring? He can bring down your meds and then you'll be all proper."

The breath 2D drew before he replied was more of a shudder. It gave him goose bumps along his spine, in spite of the heat. "Think I was out. Gotta ring up the doctor." That had to be true...He tried to think back to a few nights ago, when he'd met Noodle in the kitchen. That was a trek for pain pills, which meant there weren't any in his room. There hadn't been any again tonight, so there must not be any at all.

"For fuck's sake, Stuart…" Murdoc rolled his eyes and started wrapping up 2D's legs, now wet from peroxide. "You don't need them anyways, you just think you do." He grew quiet again, wrapping as fast as he could. "Get you some sleeping pills so you can sleep off whatever disgusting filth that thing might have gotten into you." He paused as he started to get up to make his way over to the bathroom. "You better not be thinkin' 'bout all those zombie flicks you stuff yer head with."

The look he gave Murdoc was considerably pout-y. "How d'you think they keep lettin' me 'ave 'em, if I'm just thinkin' stuff?" Pills, of course, not zombie flicks. Now his thoughts did wander to those, and he mentally crossed himself in thanks for not sustaining a bite. The nail scratches itched something awful, though.

Taking an unmarked bottle down from one of the cabinets, Murdoc came back over to where 2D lay and placed a white pill in his hand. "Yer lucky I still have problems sleeping. Take that and by the time I've got you locked away in yer room, you'll be out cold and I can get Russel to deal with that damn door."

As he usually did (however unintelligently), 2D popped the tablet into his mouth and swallowed it dry. His knees curled up towards his chest again, and he gave a slow shake of his head. "Don' move me yet, huh? Gimme a bit." Even aside from the relentless pain, he was a little afraid to go back out into the car park, even with Murdoc by his side.

There was a strangle growl under coming from Murdoc's throat, but it never reached his hands. "Fine then, but yer not sleepin' on my floor. Only I can do that." Wrapping an arm under 2D's waist again, Murdoc dragged across the filthy carpet to the couch he had left just a while ago. It didn't take much to get 2D on the couch, he even had enough patience to switch off his television and throw a blanket at the zombie victim before grumbling towards the bed just a little ways from the makeshift living room.

Had he been a little more alert, it would have surprised 2D that Murdoc could haul him around so easily. As un-alert as he was, all he thought was that it bordered on the feeling of being held, and that was almost nice, with his head pounding. Almost. Only almost.

"Thanks," he mumbled as he collapsed on the couch. Immediately after being dropped, he curled back up, one hand in his hair again. The couch was kind of lumpy, and it smelled like old food and utter strangeness, but it was infinitely better than the floor, and even better still than walking back to the house proper.

"Yeah." Lighting a cigarette, Murdoc propped himself up against one of his bed walls and inhaled deeply. Smoke billowed from his nose as he watched the sleeping mass on his couch, shotgun resting readily on his lap. It was only so long till daylight. Another sleepless night.

- end -


End file.
